Jason Snippet
Alone at night. When the wind is but a whisper and the only one awake seems to be oneself.
Melachony? Reverence? Neither term seems to fit the feeling. So wonderous, yet so sad.
Sleep seems to be the furthest thing from my mind but a yawn escapes me anyway. Above me I find the moon and the stars, ever indifferent to me. Heavens know what they'd do if they decided to punish me.
The noteblock burns in the back of my mind whilst the crack of gravel resounds like gunshots off the alleywalls. It didn't matter now if someone saw me and yet every sound that wasn't made by the stone under my feet had me on edge.
Maybe it was my healthy fear of being followed or perhaps it was that realisation cropping up again. Of what I had left behind in exchange for this life. I cannot say if I regret it or not, yet I long to see them again. Somehow I can never shake that desire.
Or perhaps it was the growing guilt I felt that caused it to rise again. The guilt that I should have know earlier. Not that it matters now… and yet… All that matters is that I have the black mail. All that matters is that he will pay.
